Moon on a String
by Sailor Panda
Summary: [IY x YYH crossover] Girl wants normal life. Unfortunately, girl doesn’t get it. Those darn pesky youkai - believe me, you have NO idea!


**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Yeah, I know. What am I doing writing another series fic? Truthfully, I'd had this written nearly three months ago. I really wasn't going to post this until _Jewels on Water_ was done but I had a few people tell me they couldn't open it from the Yahoo group I'd put this in, which was the only place where some of you could have seen this if you've read it already, and emailing didn't seem to work either. So here it is. Some may hate it; some may like it – though I certainly hope it's more of the latter.

This will have a little bit of everything – romance, mystery, drama, angst, humor, etc. – though I'll be focusing much more on plot in this one than romance. However, this is low on my list of priorities so updates will be slower on this one than for my other fics, at least until I get _Jewels on Water_ done. But maybe this will give readers something to while away the time with until I do update my other stuff.

It's my second crossover fic and my first attempt to do a multi-chaptered fic through 1st person POV. Hopefully, it won't be a flop and turn Mary-Sue because then I think I'll have to start hurting myself. _Grrr_.

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Chapter 1: Dreams to Reality 

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With a gasp, I woke. Heart thrumming unsteadily in my chest, my eyes darted frantically around and only when I recognized the familiarity of my room through the shadows did I relax. With a heartfelt sigh that was filled with relief, I finally allowed my body to settle back in bed.

Thank God, it had only been a dream.

Still, even so, I remained awake staring unblinkingly into the darkness of my room for a long, long time until dawn's light began to shine on the horizon. Then, and only then, did I allow myself to slip back into sleep, the fading remnants of whispered words filled with an unforgettable ache echoing within my head.

_Save him. Please, please, save him..._

oOoOoOo

I wondered what it meant.

It was starting to bother me, though there really wasn't anything truly disturbing about the dreams. Or would that just be 'dream' singular? After all, it was always the exact same dream repeated over again.

And again, and again, and again…

It was getting on my nerves.

I wasn't the type of person who was prone to dreams or, if I was, at least not prone to remembering them on the next day. Unless one counted that dream about the mambo dancing red and green polka-dotted reindeer, but I'd long ago treated that as an unavoidable product of being doused with too many sweets on an empty stomach and having to watch my parents' poor attempt to do the boogie on the dance floor at a family Christmas party.

I'd been seven years old at the time; it had been a highly traumatic experience.

And I never have looked at dancing the same way since.

Brushing aside recollections of my mother's bewildered panic when I'd started screaming and crying upon the first suggestion – though I called it threat – that I start taking ballet lessons upon turning eight, my mind went back to pondering the mystery of those dreams. They'd been increasing in frequency lately, coming every night now instead of once a week as they had done when they had first begun.

Actually, I was starting to think that there was some hidden meaning to those dreams. But that was just crazy.

Wasn't it?

Come to think of it, when I cast my mind back to the first time I'd started dreaming that dream, I wondered if it might be some kind of sign of emotional stress. Maybe I'd been more impacted by what had happened in my life with The Incident – that's what I called it – than I had originally thought and my subconscious had developed those dreams as a result.

It definitely bore some further thinking about. I didn't like the idea that I still had a hang-up about what had occurred, what I'd been a part of. But there was no denying the fact that the dreams had started the exact same night when I had -

"Excuse me," a kindly voice broke into my thinking. "But I think that's enough now, don't you?"

Blinking, I turned towards the interruption to find the owner of the restaurant, a kindly old man, staring at me with the vaguest trace of concern in his eyes. With a sinking feeling in my chest, my gaze darted around the room before settling upon the rag in hand that I'd been using to wipe down one of the tables. I could feel a blush crawling over my cheeks – the ease with which that always happens never ceased to irk me – upon realizing that there'd been some point between the time that I'd started cleaning the table up until that very moment when all the other patrons were so obviously not there anymore, leaving the restaurant empty.

And I never even noticed!

I wondered how long I'd been zoned out while cleaning the table but the expression on my boss's face made me slightly afraid to find out. However long it had been, it was obviously long enough to cause someone being sent out to gain my attention.

"I'm sorry, Masami-san," I said immediately with an apologetic bow. "I must have spaced out for a moment."

"My dear," the old man chuckled good-naturedly, "You're one of the hardest workers I've ever had employed to me and this was our busiest day of the week. I think you're allowed one or two moments of distraction without having it held against you."

That made me smile. "Thank you, sir."

"Now go home and get some rest. We're closed and I recall you telling me earlier that you've got a full schedule ahead of you tomorrow."

"But the rest of the tables-"

"Have already been taken care of," Masami finished. "Naoko-chan cleaned the couple of tables left before she went home."

Wow. I must have been zoned out for a really, really long time.

"Don't make that face," Masami told me chidingly. "You still did good work today, as always. And it's usual for it all to hit you at the end of a hard day's work. No wonder you're exhausted. My best advice to you is to go home and go to bed. You'll feel much better after a good night's sleep."

Ha! If only he knew.

Still, it was sound advice and I didn't feel like arguing. So, after saying my good-byes, I left.

It was dark out but still not so late in the evening that there wasn't an adequate number of other people about to make it unsafe for a lone female to walk her way back home. The distance to back to my apartment was far enough to make it uncomfortable walking during bad weather, but not sufficient for a taxi or subway during good weather. As long as I stuck to the more populated public streets instead of the shadier shortcuts through back alleys, I didn't feel that it was too risky to make her way home by foot. And foot power was a lot cheaper than any other method available and, with the expenses that I had to worry about, there wasn't much else that I could afford.

Being constantly broke really sucked.

Besides, as any woman would say, I could always use the extra exercise.

However, as I made the journey home, it wasn't thoughts of exercise that preoccupied me. Inevitably, they returned to ponder my dreams. It wasn't something I seemed capable of avoiding, not when they were starting to interfere with my work.

Disturbed at the way the dreams were encroaching on my waking hours, I wondered if I should tell someone. But even if I went that route, whom could I possibly ask an opinion from? My parents were out; they didn't hold with that kind of nonsense. And I didn't even want to think about what my friends would say, much less the looks they'd no doubt give me, too.

And that left me with the question of - _what the hell was I going to do?_

The idea of going slowly insane was _not_ an option to be considered.

But the strange thing was that, aside from the oddity of remembering a dream that I dreamt every night now when I'd never had a tendency towards such things before, I didn't feel any different. Well, no different than I usually felt when I hadn't been getting a particularly restful sleep.

My waking moments were as normal as they ever were in their routine, almost comfortable in repetitiveness. And I still felt completely like myself; there were no sudden urges to kill myself, or anyone else for that matter – well, no more than the usual anyway. My life might not have been the most exciting, and there were probably other people out there doing more with theirs, but I was fairly content with the way it was working for me. So, I guess acquiring a sudden bout of depression to explain away those dreams was also out.

I had, I was pretty certain, no exhibiting signs of psychoticness or, for that matter, any other mental disorder that came to mind. There were no indications of a developing split personality, no obsessive need to wash my hands over and over again repeatedly to rid myself of nonexistent germs, no urge to drool uncontrollably without reason, no sudden mad ranting about the oncoming apocalypse, no weird hallucinations, no -

Uh-oh.

What was that I'd been saying about hallucinations?

And it had to be one. Nothing else could explain how I'd been walking through the streets of Tokyo on a completely clear non-hazy night and then suddenly find myself in the middle of fog that was as thick as mud soup. The swirling grayness was surrounding and opaque; nothing, and I do mean _nothing_, else could be seen except that dull lackluster color.

It was exactly like my dreams.

I believe I had mentioned before that those dreams hadn't been particularly disturbing. And they weren't. It was exactly like this; just an absolute enveloping gray – not white, not black, just gray – that allowed for nothing else. There were no buildings, no people, no ground, no violence, no movement, no anything.

Nothing except for myself, and a melancholy voice that always pleaded the same unchanging words.

_Save him. Please, please, save him..._

Only, those words were not being said now. Gooseflesh broke across my skin as the weirdness of that struck me. There had never been a dream where those words had not been spoken – though the who and how of the person I was supposed to save was never revealed – and the sudden odd break in a familiar pattern was making me nervous.

I had to still be dreaming.

That's right, I was still sleeping and the events of the day never happened. This was one of those déjà vu dreams where I dreamt of doing normal real life stuff and it would all seem so real until I woke up and would then wonder why my mind had even bothered dreaming of such mundane things in the first place. From my understanding, such dreams were normal and many people had them.

Though I'd never, ever had such dreams before in my life.

But what else could it be other than a dream?

The other answer that occurred to me didn't bear thinking of.

However, just pondering the matter wasn't going to get me anywhere. Dream or real, I wanted out. If it was a dream, then I needed to find something that would wake me up because just standing around waiting for an undeterminable amount of time for that to happen wasn't high on my list of favorite ideas. And if it wasn't a dream –

Well, that would be a bridge better crossed when came to.

Unfortunately, in accordance with a well deserved growing dread, that bridge seemed to be looming closer and closer with each moment that ticked by.

The problem was that nothing I seemed to do was waking me up and freeing me from this world of gray. I tried to order myself awake but, well, I had a hard time taking orders that I didn't like so perhaps, for some crazy reason, following the command to wake up went against what I _might_ like. I even tried to wish very, very hard but that met with pretty much the same results except that I started feeling ridiculously like Wendy from Peter Pan. Then I made an attempt to sing a string of children's songs in my cracking unable-to-carry-a-tune voice – unfortunately, that also happened to be my normal singing voice – in an effort to annoy myself awake but, that too, fell far short of the intended goal.

The only other thing I could think of was trying to hurt myself, and not in the suicidal I-hate-myself-and-don't-want-to-live-anymore kind of way. There was just one small hitch; I'd never been very fond of pain - I have an almost cowardly low tolerance for it that clearly kicks in whenever I'm even around needles – but maybe the shock of getting hurt would shake up my subconscious enough to let me out into the real world. Besides, it didn't have to be a big hurt. Maybe just a little pinch or -

"Ouch! That hurt!"

Hurt.

Oh, God.

Physical pain. Physical pain that I'd actually _felt._

And that meant…this was really real and I had officially stepped into the Twilight Zone (Sorry, foreign pop culture reference that has apparently stuck with me; I'd once been taken with the notion of studying in America and devoured what I could garner about it, even if it was only a pipe dream due to lack of funds). Now all I needed was the accompanying theme music to start playing in the background and the eeriness would be complete.

Of course, if that really happened, I think I would have totally flipped out.

Well, it didn't and that was good. I was freaked out enough as it was and I really didn't need any extra help in accomplishing that particular job. Not when I was doing fine enough on my own.

Feeling on the verge of hyperventilating, I ordered myself to calm down. And I might have mentioned it before but I didn't do very well with orders. Needless to say, that didn't go the way I wanted it to. Nevertheless, despite my less than lioness-hearted bravery, I liked to think of myself as somewhat intelligent. My grades in school had always been fairly good and, as I was in my last year of college now, surely I had enough smarts to reason a way through this and find a solution to the problem as I had on many another school assignment.

Unfortunately, college never covered what to do when weird supernatural dreams became reality.

And that left me pretty much all on my own.

Joy.

It was amazing what a good dose of sarcasm does for a confused and terrified mind. It always was one of my favorite defenses whenever I felt lost or otherwise emotionally disturbed and now was no different. Slightly more stable, I slowly came to the realization that, since this was real, I had to take some kind of action because standing around really was going to get me nowhere. Call me crazy, but I had no desire to stick around in a place where there was nothing but gray silence to see and hear no matter where I turned.

Plus, I was starting to get hungry.

And, though I could have been wrong about this, fog didn't make for good sustenance.

As I mentioned before, there was nothing to see; no road, no path, no ground. Though it _felt_ like there was ground, or something solid at the very least beneath my feet, I certainly couldn't see it. With nothing visible that could indicate what direction had been taken or should be taken, it was a gamble no matter which way I decided to move myself in. I guessed I would just have take a plunge and trust in luck.

Too bad my luck hasn't been going well lately. I would have felt a lot better about trusting myself in the fickleness of fate if it had. But there were no guarantees and I didn't see any other choice.

And the fact that nothing had tried to eat me yet was a good sign.

Besides, looking back, those dreams were looking more like foresight, a warning of what was going to happen and cryptic advice telling me that I should prepare myself. Though I really would have liked to know how anyone could expect me to manage that feat when I was never really told anything except to 'save him,' whoever 'him' was.

Nevertheless, it seemed that whatever crazy powers-that-be had chosen me to accomplish this mystery task, which had been rudely decided for me without even the courtesy of asking my permission first. Surely, after going through all this elaborate set-up and effort to get me to this point, the unknown 'they' wouldn't let anything happen to me this far into the game.

One could only hope.

Okay, enough stalling. This had to be real because hunger was gnawing my stomach raw and I think my bladder was beginning to feel a bit full too. I had to find a way out if only to save myself the embarrassment of committing an unpardonable act that I hadn't had to worry about since I was three and finally out of diapers.

With new urges lighting my courage, however fragile that might be, I started walking and let my feet and whatever instinct I had be my guide. It didn't matter which way I took. If those sci-fi and fantasy novels I've read were to be believed at all, any direction taken would inevitably lead to the same spot, which was wherever those powers wanted me to be. Though I didn't like being jerked around like this by something I didn't understand or know, I _did _want to get out and an ominous intuition told me that particular wish wouldn't be granted until I gave them what they wanted.

The least they could have done was add a little more color to the landscape.

Now, I had nothing against gray, even had a handful of clothes in varying shades of it. But the unbroken dreariness was depressing when I had to walk through it without knowing when I'd come to my destination, if there even was one. That brought to mind a brief image that flashed through my head of walking, walking, walking down an endless path until suddenly I stepped –

And abruptly plunged off the face of the earth.

Shivering, I flicked the thought away as quickly as it had come and then proceeded to try not thinking of anything else at all.

No use borrowing even more worries than I already had.

I was getting tired though, no surprise since I was already coming from the weariness brought on by a full day's work on my feet. It was impossible to tell how long I'd been walking, but I was beginning to appreciate just how long an eternity might be. For all I knew, I was walking in place and getting nowhere, like when a child tried to travel in the opposite direction of the escalator's motion to no avail, unless some kind soul turned off the electricity or scooped the child up and deposited him where he should be.

I just wished someone would deposit _me._

I was no longer frightened. But I _was_ getting bored. And I was tired and hungry and – ah, I think I already mentioned my bladder problem. If I was being guided somewhere, it really would have been considerate of those mysterious powers if they could get there sometime soo-

Oh. Well, never mind.

I think this was it.

It was just a shadowy lump at first, a darker spot of gray in a sea of grayness. At first, I thought I was just imagining it, a product of wishful thinking like seeing an oasis in a dry desert. Well, this was my oasis and the more I walked, the larger that dark spot became. It was something different and it drew me like a beacon. Though nerves started tightening through me again when I started wondering what I'd find upon reaching my destination, I didn't change my course.

It wasn't as if there was anywhere else I could go.

And then, suddenly, there was no more 'anywhere' because I had reached the 'where.' And that 'where' was-

A tree?

A really, really big and really old tree but…still a tree.

Huh. Well, there was no one and nothing else around as far as I could tell. Just me and the old big tree. And what was I supposed to do with it? Talk to it?

Feeling silly, I decided to give it a shot. "Hello," I said as politely as I could manage and then I waited for a response and got-

Nothing.

Well, really. What had I expected anyway? Trees didn't talk. Or, if they did, I didn't have the right kind of ears to understand the conversation.

Disappointed and at a loss for what to do now that my last option had been exhausted, I couldn't help the forlorn sigh that escaped from my lips. Feeling drained and tired, wanting a bit of rest, I turned until I could lean back against the bark of the tree.

Imagine my surprise when I suddenly found myself falling backwards into space!

It was, fortunately, a short fall and I landed in an ungainly heap with enough force that I was sure would leave some unsightly bruises if I managed to make it out of the situation alive. Rattled and more than a little shaken, I noticed that the surroundings were dark, even darker than they'd been during my walk, and virtually edged into pitch black. Looking up, a panel of lighter dark caught my eye, the shade was the same as the fog I'd been walking through and I knew that was from where I had fallen. And that was interesting since I was positive there had been no opening at the base of the tree before I had tried to rest against it. It was also scary because –

Well, trees just didn't _do_ that!

Not normal ones anyway. Which left-

Oh, God! Oh, no!

Maybe I was going to be eaten after all!

That did it! Dream be damned, but I was leaving and had every intention of doing so when I scrambled to my feet and made a mad dash for that gray exit-

Only to find that it wasn't there anymore.

It had, quite literally, sealed itself up and left me trapped in what would become my tomb for all I knew. I patted the area where that I'd last seen that bit of gray and met with rough solidness that had no give. There was no exit that I could feel and feel was all I could do as, with the absence of that gray, I was left in absolute and total blackness.

If this wasn't a time to panic, I didn't know what was.

_FWOOSH!_

"Ack!" I shrieked as I was suddenly blinded, this time by light.

Lots of light.

When my vision cleared of the dancing dots and fuzz, it was with no small amount of trepidation that I observed these newest surroundings I was thrust into. It was a tunnel of dirt and wood. Considering what had been on the outside, that wasn't really surprising. What was, however, was how long the tunnel seemed to be.

From my frozen position, I could tell that the tunnel curved and my vision down the path was cut off at the bend. And along either side of the walls, a row of flickering torches set at shoulder-height rimmed this mysterious inner cavern.

Mysterious was right.

There was no sign of other life and I had no explanation for how all the torches suddenly came to light simultaneously and rendered me temporarily blind. Nor did I have a good theory on how the inside of the tree, while large from viewed outside, could house within itself a tunnel that seemed just as long in depth as it had looked high. And with a gulp, I noticed that I could now see with the addition of light what I had already half suspected.

There was no exit behind me.

For all that I had entered from there, it was now just a solid seamless wall of dirt and wood for all the good it did me. Clearly, whoever was in charge of this was telling me that it was too late to turn back and the only option was to go forward.

Well, fine.

I've come this far, might as well see it through to the end.

I just hoped the end wasn't mine.

It was much like walking through the sea of gray fog. The scenery didn't change from its picturesque wood, dirt, and mounted torches and I still didn't feel like I was being digested into tree food so I my shaky optimism was doing okay. And just when I began thinking again that the walking would never end, it was much to my surprise that I finally came to a door.

A door that couldn't be opened.

Or, if there was a way, I couldn't see it.

There were no locks or handles. Only a thick sheet of plain wood that, though obviously having seen much of the passing of time, still looked as solid and secure as any steel armor. I tried pushing against it with all of my might with about as much effect as an ant trying to weight-lift an elephant.

Huh.

What was I supposed to do now?

As those thoughts had been a trigger, the world around me started to shake. With a startled shriek, the force of the tunnel trembling around caused me to drop to my knees and cover my head as dirt rained down from above and I was struck with the sudden terrifying vision of being buried alive and crushed with the weight of the earth caving in on me. As I huddled on the ground, sounds amidst the rumbling of the earth had me peeking out warily.

The door was groaning.

It wasn't like human groaning. It was more like the sounds a strong object made when even its strength was starting to collapse against an even greater one.

_BRRRAAAACK!_

And the door was definitely collapsing.

It began with a large crack that suddenly appeared like a dark diagonal slash across its middle. But as that piece of wood continued to shudder and the earth around it rumbled and shook, that crack was followed by another and another and another. It was a process that continued until its surface seemed covered with an intricate and complicated webbed design that lasted for a moment before the tunnel seemed to give one last giant heave that caused that broken pattern to fall and splinter apart like dust blown away in the breeze, scattered on and around me in tiny fragments.

Then the door was gone and the tunnel was still and silent once more.

Now…now there was nothing left separating me from whatever was behind that door.

Uneasiness gripped my chest hard but I clambered to my feet though my legs still felt shaky. Feeling chilled, I crept cautiously closer to the new opening and wondered what was held in the darkness I could see beyond.

_FWOOSH!_

Lights suddenly flared in a familiar way and, nerves shot, I barely caught myself this time from shrieking aloud at the suddenness of it. Not feeling up to anymore surprises, but doubting it could be avoided, I was close to miserable as I've ever felt when I took a few steps into this new room and came to an abrupt halt when I saw what was inside.

Absolutely beautiful…

And definitely not human.

Was it female? A male? I couldn't tell for certain. Vines or roots – some kind of fibrous tentacle-like objects – were looped around its body and made it difficult to determine the details of the form. Aside from that, the figure also wore too many clothes that seemed to have a lot of layers that were very old. And I didn't mean old in the sense of age, but of fashion.

I hadn't seen anything like that since my medieval Japanese History courses.

As I stared, unwillingly fascinated, the figure moved. Not in the get-up-and-walk-around type of move, but there was suddenly movement in those features that had been so utterly still that I was contemplating the idea that it was just a beautifully created life-sized doll.

A doll would probably have been safer.

And this was no doll and didn't look anything near being safe.

It was odd the cold chill of terror that shivered through me as I watched that expressionless face with a wide unblinking gaze. Because, as far as I could see, the only movement that the figure exhibited was the act of opening eyes. The motion was slow, almost painful increments that stopped only when they could open no more and left me gazing into staring eyes.

They were a beautiful shade of amber gold.

And very, very vacant.

Though those eyes were open, they were unseeing. Compelled by something within me that felt soft and sympathetic to being witness such a sight, the voice of reason that told me to run away was very distant, drowned out by this inexplicable need of mine that was pulling me closer until I was near enough to reach out and touch that silent figure.

Some small amount of self-preservation returned before I actually did touch hard enough to feel solid flesh under fingertips, but not before I felt the texture of old cloth beneath whisper across my skin. It was just a moment, the barest of touches only, but it was enough.

I really, really shouldn't have touched.

However well preserved the figure was, the clothes worn were too old, too brittle. As I watched, horrified, the ancient threads disintegrated at the brief touch and there was suddenly a large gap of missing cloth across the chest area.

Well, at least now I knew that 'it' was a 'he.'

"I'm sorry," I couldn't help myself from whispering, though what I was apologizing for even I couldn't say at the time.

But there was no response in reply.

Uneasy now for a different reason, I still had no clue what to do. Apparently, I'd found the 'him' that I was supposed to save and had an awful suspicion that was taking shape in my mind of just what it was I was supposed to save him from.

Unfortunately, I also had no clue on how to do that either. What else was new?

It would be nice if he could tell me what to do but, judging from his blank stare, that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. He wasn't a doll, but for all the life he exhibited, he might as well have been one.

"I'm sorry," I said again, this time just to hear myself talk perhaps. I think all the silence was starting to get to me. "I didn't mean barge in or disturb your sleep, that is, if you were sleeping. I didn't mean to wake you or, um, break your door down. Though I that really wasn't my fault since the door kind of broke on its own. And it's not like I wanted to be here anyway. I didn't _want_ to intrude but your tree…sort of invited me in…"

Grimacing, I trailed off. I was starting to babble like I usually do when I became nervous. It's a habit I tried hard to break since I hated it so, but it was difficult.

Not like he cared anyway.

No scathing comment, no sneer, not even a blink in response. Just…nothing.

It was annoying.

Scowling, I waved a hand before his open eyes.

Nothing.

I tried snapping my fingers at those unblinking orbs.

Nothing.

I even poked him in the cheek with a persistent finger.

Nothing.

Feeling silly and exasperated, I went back to the basics that my mother had drummed into me since I was a child. It was really the simplest of etiquette that any new acquaintance should be met with.

Introductions.

"Hello," I said in my most pleasant hostess-friendly tone. "I'm Keiko. Yukimura Keiko. And who might you be?"

Despite my efforts, I really wasn't expecting any kind of response aside from the usual silent unblinking gold-eyed stare. Which was why I couldn't restrain myself from an embarrassed yelp when words suddenly seemed to echo all around me in the form of a disembodied voice in answer to my question.

"_He is our Great Lord, Sesshoumaru."_


End file.
